"If your answer is no, then I will just have to learn to survive -- like a
three-legged wolf in the wilderness -- still surviving -- but on much,
much less."
September 30, 2006
Is this your first time?
A few days go, we took Luckey to the dog run in Madison Square Park upon the boy's insistence. Apparently, Luckey needs puppy friends. It was fun in the simplest and most joyful sense of the word. I was--pardon the analogy--like a new mom taking her kid to his first day of kindergarten; hesitant at first to put Luckey down with the Dalmations and Great Danes loping around. He talked me into it gently; without pushing me, he encouraged me to just see what happened. Once I placed Luckey on the ground he ran to me and kept jumping to be picked up. I resisted the urge to do so. He cowered under the benches we sat on for a time. I ignored him.
Other dog owners looked at us dubiously. We were the newbies at the dog run. A few different female owners approached us to confirm that it was in fact our very first time. I can't say I enjoyed the attention, seeing as how it wasn't particularly positive, but we were definitely the new folks being welcomed into the community. It was surreal--my version of a surburban experience in the big city.
The boy kept trying to pry him out from under there and get him acquainted with the other dogs. He was the one to jump in and scoop Luckey off the ground when a few of the other pups ganged up on him, playfully. He was the one who held my hand and frowned with concern every time a larger dog raced by Luckey--scaring my diminutive dog with its sheer size and force of being. The experience made me realize that was as close to a family moment I ever wanted--had invisioned--for myself.
After this exercise in letting my puppy grow, we split a bottle of wine at Shake Shack and sat at a lone table in the middle of a dusty patch with the Empire State Building lit up in red and blue. Luckey sat at our feet, lapping up the Pooch-ini, the boy insisted on getting him for being a good boy at the dog run. It was a classic New York moment. Me in my flowing black skirt billowing around, Him in his fresh from work suit, Luckey luxuriating in the blissful moment of doggie dessert...it was very sitcom.
Other dog owners looked at us dubiously. We were the newbies at the dog run. A few different female owners approached us to confirm that it was in fact our very first time. I can't say I enjoyed the attention, seeing as how it wasn't particularly positive, but we were definitely the new folks being welcomed into the community. It was surreal--my version of a surburban experience in the big city.
The boy kept trying to pry him out from under there and get him acquainted with the other dogs. He was the one to jump in and scoop Luckey off the ground when a few of the other pups ganged up on him, playfully. He was the one who held my hand and frowned with concern every time a larger dog raced by Luckey--scaring my diminutive dog with its sheer size and force of being. The experience made me realize that was as close to a family moment I ever wanted--had invisioned--for myself.
After this exercise in letting my puppy grow, we split a bottle of wine at Shake Shack and sat at a lone table in the middle of a dusty patch with the Empire State Building lit up in red and blue. Luckey sat at our feet, lapping up the Pooch-ini, the boy insisted on getting him for being a good boy at the dog run. It was a classic New York moment. Me in my flowing black skirt billowing around, Him in his fresh from work suit, Luckey luxuriating in the blissful moment of doggie dessert...it was very sitcom.
September 29, 2006
Punched in the Heart
I have a confession to make...
This is hard for me to reveal but the truth is that many of my cute saying and funny slang originated from or were wholly inspired by Tracey. She's really the kookie, zany one and in the years our friendship has been symbiotic: the thin membrane of plurality ever growing closer to the singular and permeating my brain with potential witticisms.
What I'm trying to say is that I steal her sayings. It is not wholly intentional but like a good movie or great book, you get to quoting and stop marking it with quotes or air quotes, as the case may be.
This post is dedicated to Tracey! I'm acknowledging the truth and giving you credit for coining, "punched in the heart"--an expression I see myself using moving forward.
This is hard for me to reveal but the truth is that many of my cute saying and funny slang originated from or were wholly inspired by Tracey. She's really the kookie, zany one and in the years our friendship has been symbiotic: the thin membrane of plurality ever growing closer to the singular and permeating my brain with potential witticisms.
What I'm trying to say is that I steal her sayings. It is not wholly intentional but like a good movie or great book, you get to quoting and stop marking it with quotes or air quotes, as the case may be.
This post is dedicated to Tracey! I'm acknowledging the truth and giving you credit for coining, "punched in the heart"--an expression I see myself using moving forward.
Focus Groups
Living in New York you develop this ethnocentricity (specific to THE city itself), so I will resist the urge to start this post with "Only in New York City"--as I am wont to do--with no further ado...the post itself:
I've found that focus groups, for the unemployed, can be a source of income. In my early days in Manhattan, I used to supplement my then meager income with seasonal focus groups but off late I've managed to get invited to a few different ones with pay ranges from $100/hour to $225/day; clearly one pay scale is better than the other, but both are fairly lucrative modes of making money. While I'm still not sure I can susbsist on focus group wages alone, I am willing to believe New York Magainze that it is within the realm of possibility.
Still jobless and loving it.
I've found that focus groups, for the unemployed, can be a source of income. In my early days in Manhattan, I used to supplement my then meager income with seasonal focus groups but off late I've managed to get invited to a few different ones with pay ranges from $100/hour to $225/day; clearly one pay scale is better than the other, but both are fairly lucrative modes of making money. While I'm still not sure I can susbsist on focus group wages alone, I am willing to believe New York Magainze that it is within the realm of possibility.
Still jobless and loving it.
JailBait....I wish!
Reba cuffs me in front of our Jailhouse theme display the day before our housewarming. Tommy--thanks for sending this camera phone moment along.
September 27, 2006
Luckey in My Bag
The boy's friend photographed Luckey with his new phone cum blackberry just north of Union Square at Dos Los Molinas...as soon as Such got it on his Blackberry he e-mailed this Luckey-in-Bag shot to me!
September 24, 2006
Dorm Party
Last night, I actually attended a boozefest at the New York Eye and Ear Infirmary! Yes folks, when the scalpels are out of their hands these residents really boogie down with beer pong, flip cup, and copious amounts of mixed drinks. Gray's Anatomy may have more truth to it than we would like to accept--medical references aside.
I stayed but a short while, I had a previous engagement I was missing to pop in for a quick hello to a flock of gay boys I'd always meant to meet yet never had. Not much of a Grace but always in search of her Will, I thought a successful doctor-type would be a good fit--but I'm not so sure anymore. I was too sober when I got there or they were too drunk, either way I got caught up in another Doctor girl's drama over her guy-of-the-moment and didn't have the mental capacity to experience vicariously 7th grade laced in alcohol with the potential of "hot" sex in lieu of a french kiss goodnight.
Taurean and Summer were my true impetus in attending with K in tow. My promise of cute doctors was met with a wry glare and a series of nods signaling that every piece of candy worth eye-ing was eye-ing man candy of his own. This is the New York we live in ladies.
Summer's inner domina peeked at us in her striking black ensemble--note to self--must find out where she bought that shirt. Tauren--always the picture of style was missing his Triple 5 Soul page boy hat--amazes me; he exudes both warmth and positivity with an ease and flow that are simultaneously comforting and daunting. He's the kind of friend you realize over time that was always rooting for you and if you become a better person over the course of your interactions you can be sure his heart was in it--where his heart is his hands follow. We all need people that push us to be better people; be they parents, older siblings, spouses, strangers, or a trusted friend...I've found mine in Taurean. I called him my guardian angel once--once when I was a mess over a boy who broke my heart--and it's true. He's my black Gabriel (hmm...Is that redundant? Was Gabriel black in the good book?)
I stayed but a short while, I had a previous engagement I was missing to pop in for a quick hello to a flock of gay boys I'd always meant to meet yet never had. Not much of a Grace but always in search of her Will, I thought a successful doctor-type would be a good fit--but I'm not so sure anymore. I was too sober when I got there or they were too drunk, either way I got caught up in another Doctor girl's drama over her guy-of-the-moment and didn't have the mental capacity to experience vicariously 7th grade laced in alcohol with the potential of "hot" sex in lieu of a french kiss goodnight.
Taurean and Summer were my true impetus in attending with K in tow. My promise of cute doctors was met with a wry glare and a series of nods signaling that every piece of candy worth eye-ing was eye-ing man candy of his own. This is the New York we live in ladies.
Summer's inner domina peeked at us in her striking black ensemble--note to self--must find out where she bought that shirt. Tauren--always the picture of style was missing his Triple 5 Soul page boy hat--amazes me; he exudes both warmth and positivity with an ease and flow that are simultaneously comforting and daunting. He's the kind of friend you realize over time that was always rooting for you and if you become a better person over the course of your interactions you can be sure his heart was in it--where his heart is his hands follow. We all need people that push us to be better people; be they parents, older siblings, spouses, strangers, or a trusted friend...I've found mine in Taurean. I called him my guardian angel once--once when I was a mess over a boy who broke my heart--and it's true. He's my black Gabriel (hmm...Is that redundant? Was Gabriel black in the good book?)
September 21, 2006
Luckey's Mug Shot
Thanks to Tommy for taking these amazing photos of Luckey on his brand new Cannon camera of much money and high picture quality.
Owning a dog has been the highlight of this year...yes, I know the year is far from over, but the end is creeping up on us all.
September 19, 2006
September 18, 2006
Photos from Camp
K and I met Lawrie on the bus itself. As we made our way to camp, she won us over with her friendliness and willingness to share travel tales. She's an accountant who travels extensively for work and the kind of girl you can imagine arguing with a busboy in Stockholm or trekking through the Black Forest in Germany. She was one of our 83 guests at our Housewarming party last Friday. 
No camp is complete without a crush! Mine was on this hottie, Matt, who worked at camp--he had a hot British accent to match his sweet smile.
I figured I had to put up the picture of me riding the bull--this mechanical bull at camp was serious. My jeans have some torn up seams thanks to this bad boy.
Till you see me in a kayak you really shouldn't believe that I kayaked. So, here I am--in a kayak!
September 14, 2006
Forgiveness
Months ago, I wrote about a date whom I affectionately termed Indian Dracula--it was more vicious than sweet--well, he found my blog and was less than happy with my musings on our brief time together. However in light of my behavior he treated me with maturity and respect. He forgave me and conveyed hurt void of the kind of anger that induces reciprocation. I was appalled. I was confronted by my immaturity and I have never forgiven myself.
Today, he IMed out of the blue--just to say hi. I felt more small than good, but in light of his good example I took the opportunity to invite him to my housewarming party tomorrow. We'll see how that goes...if he comes.
Today, he IMed out of the blue--just to say hi. I felt more small than good, but in light of his good example I took the opportunity to invite him to my housewarming party tomorrow. We'll see how that goes...if he comes.
Scary and Damaged
Grey's Anatomy is the best show EVER. Watching it is makes me feel like my life isn't so bad after all. It makes me realize that I'm not too old for angst because if surgical interns, responsible for the life and well-being of others, can have angst...so it's not so bad if I have angst from time to time!
Though it's been a long long time since I had angst...heck it's been a long time since I felt much of anything.
So, we're all a little scary and damaged.
Though it's been a long long time since I had angst...heck it's been a long time since I felt much of anything.
So, we're all a little scary and damaged.
September 11, 2006
My Weekend at Camp
I spent the weekend at Club Getaway in the Berkshires this weekend with a bus load of adults from Manhattan as well as a caravan of cars winding down the country roads from all over the northeastern seaboard.
K and I were the youngest of the campers which made us quite the tasty treats in our bikini and red tennis dress, respectively. Compliments on my colored contacts abounded from men and women alike--I didn't have the heart to tell them that my real eyes were a far darker, duller reality.
I tried my hand at the trapeze and surprised myself by being more agile than I had ever expected--while I didn't so much as attempt the knee hang, I did swing for a few blissful seconds and manage a knee-tuck landing. K wasn't as enthused but gave it a good college try. The most nerve-racking aspect of the trapeze is the rickety climb up the metal ladder. As it quakes and clatters with every wrung you step up, you realize that whilst on the ladder itself there is no safety net below you. I felt my knuckles whiten and my grip tighten as I climbed up, up, and up to the gorgeous British boy who would put my harness and hold me back while the lovely dance instructor by day and trapeze artist by night held the swing for me. The best part of it was the fall. I'm not the most graceful woman--by any stretch of the imagination--that said I am also not a klutz, so the feeling of soaring was not nearly as sweet as landing without maiming myself or looking foolish.
I spent the majority of my day playing tennis: starting with the intermediate clinic, progressing to drills and skills, and finishing up with a serving clinic. My serve is distinctively better and my strokes have improved marginally. I met Jon at tennis and we set up a match for the following morning, unfortunately for him, he kept me out too late at the bonfire to see me at the courts the next day. He did stop by to write his number on a napkin and hand it to me before leaving camp to get to a softball game he couldn't miss back home in southern, CT.
K and I kayaked for the better part of an hour. Talk about an arm workout--sheesh. It's really relaxing sitting dry in a boat over still water which chops below the jetskiing populous as the motorboat whizzes past. I finally learned the technique to maximize speed in a kayak--it's all in the arc your oar makes. You paddle left to go right and vice versa--counterintuitive perhaps, but effective nontheless.
Saturday night we rode the mechanical bull. My thigh muscles lack the bull-gripping strength some of the other women brought to the table. This time around I was FAR worse than the 13 seconds I managed to stay on the thing on the Sunset Strip of LA in May. K was amazing--she lasted a full half minute on her first try. I didn't give it a second go, but did pose on a stationary bull for some sorority style shots. It was amusing to see 30 and 40-something men attempt the bull, they rode valiantly before being bucked gracelessly.
Sunday we spent sore and hungover, relaxing by the tiny strip of beach and sitting on the floating docks, drinking frozen pina coladas and daiquiris. We made a fistful of friends and a handful of memories at Camp Getaway. It was no Club Med, but a great weekend nevertheless.
I hope Tommy, the cute tennis instructor, e-mails us--I could use some work on my game...
K and I were the youngest of the campers which made us quite the tasty treats in our bikini and red tennis dress, respectively. Compliments on my colored contacts abounded from men and women alike--I didn't have the heart to tell them that my real eyes were a far darker, duller reality.
I tried my hand at the trapeze and surprised myself by being more agile than I had ever expected--while I didn't so much as attempt the knee hang, I did swing for a few blissful seconds and manage a knee-tuck landing. K wasn't as enthused but gave it a good college try. The most nerve-racking aspect of the trapeze is the rickety climb up the metal ladder. As it quakes and clatters with every wrung you step up, you realize that whilst on the ladder itself there is no safety net below you. I felt my knuckles whiten and my grip tighten as I climbed up, up, and up to the gorgeous British boy who would put my harness and hold me back while the lovely dance instructor by day and trapeze artist by night held the swing for me. The best part of it was the fall. I'm not the most graceful woman--by any stretch of the imagination--that said I am also not a klutz, so the feeling of soaring was not nearly as sweet as landing without maiming myself or looking foolish.
I spent the majority of my day playing tennis: starting with the intermediate clinic, progressing to drills and skills, and finishing up with a serving clinic. My serve is distinctively better and my strokes have improved marginally. I met Jon at tennis and we set up a match for the following morning, unfortunately for him, he kept me out too late at the bonfire to see me at the courts the next day. He did stop by to write his number on a napkin and hand it to me before leaving camp to get to a softball game he couldn't miss back home in southern, CT.
K and I kayaked for the better part of an hour. Talk about an arm workout--sheesh. It's really relaxing sitting dry in a boat over still water which chops below the jetskiing populous as the motorboat whizzes past. I finally learned the technique to maximize speed in a kayak--it's all in the arc your oar makes. You paddle left to go right and vice versa--counterintuitive perhaps, but effective nontheless.
Saturday night we rode the mechanical bull. My thigh muscles lack the bull-gripping strength some of the other women brought to the table. This time around I was FAR worse than the 13 seconds I managed to stay on the thing on the Sunset Strip of LA in May. K was amazing--she lasted a full half minute on her first try. I didn't give it a second go, but did pose on a stationary bull for some sorority style shots. It was amusing to see 30 and 40-something men attempt the bull, they rode valiantly before being bucked gracelessly.
Sunday we spent sore and hungover, relaxing by the tiny strip of beach and sitting on the floating docks, drinking frozen pina coladas and daiquiris. We made a fistful of friends and a handful of memories at Camp Getaway. It was no Club Med, but a great weekend nevertheless.
I hope Tommy, the cute tennis instructor, e-mails us--I could use some work on my game...
September 8, 2006
Pitching Stories
Since I'm going to be traveling most of November, I've decided to pitch some travel article ideas to the multitude of travel websites and travel magazines in the hopes of making some money off the trip.
I've always fancied myself a bit of a writer--thus this blog--so getting the clips would be of paramount importance. My mother has tirelessly encouraged me to WRITE and get published, believing in her heart that I was born to be famous and do great things. I used to think all moms thought that way till I met other people's moms, but nonetheless I fear her faith is unfounded; I'm finally going to try to find it a foundation.
Tomorrow I'll peruse the internet and magazine shops to select more editors to harrass with my crazy ideas and blog tidbits from mmy adventures in Prague.
I've always fancied myself a bit of a writer--thus this blog--so getting the clips would be of paramount importance. My mother has tirelessly encouraged me to WRITE and get published, believing in her heart that I was born to be famous and do great things. I used to think all moms thought that way till I met other people's moms, but nonetheless I fear her faith is unfounded; I'm finally going to try to find it a foundation.
Tomorrow I'll peruse the internet and magazine shops to select more editors to harrass with my crazy ideas and blog tidbits from mmy adventures in Prague.
Party Planning
Tom, Norman, and I brainstormed themes and compiled a shopping list for our housewarming party next Friday. Based on my suggestion that we setup a photo booth so we could capture a night we might otherwise forget and provide our guests with photographic memories to supplement the experience, Norman pitched a Jailhouse theme--we had nothing to counter with--which is set.
Tom coined him "PunMaster". Norman dissented my claims of listing this as his nickname on the poster I'm creating for the entryway--so every guest, irrespective of whose friend he/she may be, will know WHO lives in 206. Tom's nickname is "Baller" given his mad v-ball skills and general "thug" demeanor. Now, for a white guy--a very white guy--Tommy can rock a gangsta stance, especially when he had one of those woolen ski hats. Besides, he's been claiming he's black from the waist done for some time now...so that seemed like a good fit.
Norman pulled out some old standbys from college and law school. We settled on "Money"...I just couldn't swallow "Iron Jew" which was his best offer.
Luckey's, of course, will be Love Bug.
I'm trying to decide between Moxie and Masala--any thoughts?
As for the drinks, we will be serving 5 distinct shots spaced across our small space:
Jail-O: Yes, these are traditional Jell-O shots
Alabama Slammer: Google it...it's a real drink.
Lethal Injection: A blue concoction that won't kill you but you may feel like you're dying. Norman provided this name.
My naming contributions were:
Life Sentence: A green liquid, it's sure to make you glad you're still alive.
Gang Bang: A bevy of harsh alcohols coming together to create a VERY red drink. The idea is not to give you "the taco shits" in the hope your bum will burn (much like a real gang bang in prison) but to wake you up and loosen you up for some party fun.
All drinks will be made from top-shelf alcohol.
Both boys vetoed my suggestion to put up a sign in our lobby and elevators to encourage the neighbors to stop by--probably wise, but definitely un-fun of them.
We will be putting up signs on our floor directing the flow of traffic that is the maze to our front door.
Norman will make the liquor run from the list we created this evening.
Tom will buy the food to create appropriately jail-themed treats.
I will hop to Party City and Rickys to find fun, funny decorative items like handcuffs and a background for the instamatic photo-frenzy.
Photos to come....
Tom coined him "PunMaster". Norman dissented my claims of listing this as his nickname on the poster I'm creating for the entryway--so every guest, irrespective of whose friend he/she may be, will know WHO lives in 206. Tom's nickname is "Baller" given his mad v-ball skills and general "thug" demeanor. Now, for a white guy--a very white guy--Tommy can rock a gangsta stance, especially when he had one of those woolen ski hats. Besides, he's been claiming he's black from the waist done for some time now...so that seemed like a good fit.
Norman pulled out some old standbys from college and law school. We settled on "Money"...I just couldn't swallow "Iron Jew" which was his best offer.
Luckey's, of course, will be Love Bug.
I'm trying to decide between Moxie and Masala--any thoughts?
As for the drinks, we will be serving 5 distinct shots spaced across our small space:
Jail-O: Yes, these are traditional Jell-O shots
Alabama Slammer: Google it...it's a real drink.
Lethal Injection: A blue concoction that won't kill you but you may feel like you're dying. Norman provided this name.
My naming contributions were:
Life Sentence: A green liquid, it's sure to make you glad you're still alive.
Gang Bang: A bevy of harsh alcohols coming together to create a VERY red drink. The idea is not to give you "the taco shits" in the hope your bum will burn (much like a real gang bang in prison) but to wake you up and loosen you up for some party fun.
All drinks will be made from top-shelf alcohol.
Both boys vetoed my suggestion to put up a sign in our lobby and elevators to encourage the neighbors to stop by--probably wise, but definitely un-fun of them.
We will be putting up signs on our floor directing the flow of traffic that is the maze to our front door.
Norman will make the liquor run from the list we created this evening.
Tom will buy the food to create appropriately jail-themed treats.
I will hop to Party City and Rickys to find fun, funny decorative items like handcuffs and a background for the instamatic photo-frenzy.
Photos to come....
Poland
So, due to the fear of being gassed on an overnight train in Poland--Li and I have given up Warsaw. I fought hard for Krackow, so it's still on the table...Li doesn't know it yet, but there will be a day trip to Auschwitz.
Incidentally, as I was telling Tom a few nights ago I'm a big believer in signs. That fate/God/the greater good sends us tokens of coincidental occurrences to guide us in choosing which fork in the road to tread on carefully albeit with a BIG stick.
My Poland sign was running in a guy I dated early in 2003. He's an Indian doctor whose name starts with (you guessed it!) A who recently moved back to the US after completing med school in POLAND. I was with my mom and her new husband so in lieu of making nice he asked for my number and we've been texting--he will recommend some great Krackow sights, sounds, and scenes to aide us in our journey. To Poland and beyond!
Incidentally, as I was telling Tom a few nights ago I'm a big believer in signs. That fate/God/the greater good sends us tokens of coincidental occurrences to guide us in choosing which fork in the road to tread on carefully albeit with a BIG stick.
My Poland sign was running in a guy I dated early in 2003. He's an Indian doctor whose name starts with (you guessed it!) A who recently moved back to the US after completing med school in POLAND. I was with my mom and her new husband so in lieu of making nice he asked for my number and we've been texting--he will recommend some great Krackow sights, sounds, and scenes to aide us in our journey. To Poland and beyond!
September 7, 2006
Tennis Today
There are three, free, singles ONLY tennis courts at Canal Street along the Hudson River. It's a magical place--Hudson River Park--where a cool breeze blows as you battle against your opponent in a furious match for pride and honor.
I love tennis!
No one would peg me an athlete but when I get on that court, I have a grace and poise which sparkle like the twinkle in my eye. It's one of the few places I've felt truly confident. I'm not terribly competitive as a player--I'm also not a spectacular player but I've been playing since I was 8 and on some level I can always feel my granddad watching me courtside. He's alive and well in India, so that's not as morbid or touching as it sounds--but it's still a sweet sensation.
I love tennis!
No one would peg me an athlete but when I get on that court, I have a grace and poise which sparkle like the twinkle in my eye. It's one of the few places I've felt truly confident. I'm not terribly competitive as a player--I'm also not a spectacular player but I've been playing since I was 8 and on some level I can always feel my granddad watching me courtside. He's alive and well in India, so that's not as morbid or touching as it sounds--but it's still a sweet sensation.
September 6, 2006
Geek is the new Chic
Tom has had some of his college buddies in town--buddies who are now doctors--yeah, we feel successful...though living with Norman, the lawyering fiend should dampen our sense of success as is--but Tom unlike me has a job and is a functioning member of society so cannot possibly feel the pangs of disenfranchisement.
Anyway, to get to the point...one of the doctor's exclaimed, "Geek is the new chic" to the eternal question--What is YOUR type? I must, of course, agree: loving the psuedo-geekiness...but I think it's more the dorky that appeals to me. Geekiness has a built in component of a lack of social skills and while a poor fashion sense can be corrected or at the very least circumvented...what is one to do with ZERO social skills?
What's your cup of cute?
Geek
Dork
NERD
Dweeb
Tool
Anyway, to get to the point...one of the doctor's exclaimed, "Geek is the new chic" to the eternal question--What is YOUR type? I must, of course, agree: loving the psuedo-geekiness...but I think it's more the dorky that appeals to me. Geekiness has a built in component of a lack of social skills and while a poor fashion sense can be corrected or at the very least circumvented...what is one to do with ZERO social skills?
What's your cup of cute?
Geek
Dork
NERD
Dweeb
Tool
September 5, 2006
The Color Green
Riding the elevator in Gary's building up to see Cashew last night, I ran into a VERY cute boy in a green shirt which matched the green skirt I was wearing to a tee. His couple friends pointed out that our clothes were a perfect match. He then turned to me smiled and said, "I guess that means we should hang out tonight."
I blushed and explained that I had a dog to walk. He asked which apartment--since we were all riding up to the 3rd floor and I told him in the fervent hope that he'd come aknockin'...no such luck, but it was a sweet interlude nonethless.
I blushed and explained that I had a dog to walk. He asked which apartment--since we were all riding up to the 3rd floor and I told him in the fervent hope that he'd come aknockin'...no such luck, but it was a sweet interlude nonethless.
September 3, 2006
EuroTrip
Last night Li Chen informed me that his November sojourn would be to Eastern Europe and NOT South America as I had been previously led to believe. I immediately hitched my wagon to his star....we leave November 3rd for Berlin and do a whirlwind 3 weeks in Eastern Europe! Talk about getting your kicks in 2006. This will be my second trip to Prague this year. Hurrah.
Here is the tentative plan:
Fly out of NYC and SF (Mi and Li) respectively for Berlin on Nov. 3rd arrive next day
Spend two days there, then hop a train to Warsaw.
Two to three days later, board the overnight train to Krackow.
A day or two later, overnight to Budapest.
Spend a few days there, there over to Vienna with day trips to Bratislava since it's only an hour or so away by rail.
Head to Prague for my glorious return--depending on days remaining I may skip Prague and head straight for Munich for my return home in time for Thanksgiving.
Li plans to stay through the Thanksgiving holiday and return the Sunday after the fact--my mother would NEVER go for that plan, so I'll be departing on Nov. 23rd and flying in to Newark to the family festivities that will ensue.
WE will be purchasing the Eastern European Travel Pass for our train travels and buying separate train tickets in and out of Germany--since it is not included on the Railpass.
The excitment, it never ends!
Here is the tentative plan:
Fly out of NYC and SF (Mi and Li) respectively for Berlin on Nov. 3rd arrive next day
Spend two days there, then hop a train to Warsaw.
Two to three days later, board the overnight train to Krackow.
A day or two later, overnight to Budapest.
Spend a few days there, there over to Vienna with day trips to Bratislava since it's only an hour or so away by rail.
Head to Prague for my glorious return--depending on days remaining I may skip Prague and head straight for Munich for my return home in time for Thanksgiving.
Li plans to stay through the Thanksgiving holiday and return the Sunday after the fact--my mother would NEVER go for that plan, so I'll be departing on Nov. 23rd and flying in to Newark to the family festivities that will ensue.
WE will be purchasing the Eastern European Travel Pass for our train travels and buying separate train tickets in and out of Germany--since it is not included on the Railpass.
The excitment, it never ends!
September 2, 2006
Watching Cashew
I'm so much more serious about walking Cashew and monitoring his goings-on than I've ever been about caring for my Luckey Duckey Love Bug.
My mom has been yelling at me for neglecting my dog for Gary's dog. Ridiculous!
My mom has been yelling at me for neglecting my dog for Gary's dog. Ridiculous!
Xanthi
Some of letters of the alphabet make for less appealing European city names, or so it seemed as I tried desperately to locate cities that started with the following:
Jungfrouch, Switzerland
Q still nothing
Xanthi, Greece
York, United Kingdom
B by far had the most number of hits with the list growing as I type:
Barcelona
Bratislava
Bucharest
Budapest
Brussels
Bern
Thanks to the Lonely Planet's Europe on a Shoestring, my Eurotrip planning has officially begun. Let the frenetic project BEGIN!
To add a dimension above and beyond just places, I've taken it upon myself ot experience an array of festivals and partake in the cities' native delight whenever possible--15 months is enough time to complete such a monumentally accelerated task.
Jungfrouch, Switzerland
Q still nothing
Xanthi, Greece
York, United Kingdom
B by far had the most number of hits with the list growing as I type:
Barcelona
Bratislava
Bucharest
Budapest
Brussels
Bern
Thanks to the Lonely Planet's Europe on a Shoestring, my Eurotrip planning has officially begun. Let the frenetic project BEGIN!
To add a dimension above and beyond just places, I've taken it upon myself ot experience an array of festivals and partake in the cities' native delight whenever possible--15 months is enough time to complete such a monumentally accelerated task.
Helsinki
I ran into Zayan at B&N in Astor Place today. It was random but oddly just as I had envisioned it would be. This city is too small not to run into your exes--when you least expect it.
We fell into that familiar banter, as we always do...I solicited his aid in compiling my A-Z European City List. When he suggested Hamburg for H instead of Helsinki, I got the sinking feeling that what magic once existed between us had forever evaporated. This sad realization was cemented by R for Rhone Valley in lieu of Rekjavik! It's freakin' Rekjavik.
In the rearview mirror of my life he's so far behind that seeing him this close again breaks me out of homeostatis into a mild shock that causes me to slam on the brakes in the hopes that the airbag will pop open and force me into today without colliding into last year.
We fell into that familiar banter, as we always do...I solicited his aid in compiling my A-Z European City List. When he suggested Hamburg for H instead of Helsinki, I got the sinking feeling that what magic once existed between us had forever evaporated. This sad realization was cemented by R for Rhone Valley in lieu of Rekjavik! It's freakin' Rekjavik.
In the rearview mirror of my life he's so far behind that seeing him this close again breaks me out of homeostatis into a mild shock that causes me to slam on the brakes in the hopes that the airbag will pop open and force me into today without colliding into last year.
September 1, 2006
Two VERY Different Books
I've been reading the acclaimed novel, Tuesdays with Morrie this week but last night I put it down in favor of Hef's Little Black Book which I found on Gary's bookshelf.
Two very different books with distinct messages that have played their part in moving me past apathy onto the path of self-actualization. They've done for me what Freud did for Jung--sowed the seeds of success.
At the core of both books the message is love: love yourself and love those that love you. After all isn't that the crux of it all.
What I loved about both men, Morrie and Hugh, was their ability to don their PJs but keep living life to the fullest. I was always a fan of loungewear.
Two very different books with distinct messages that have played their part in moving me past apathy onto the path of self-actualization. They've done for me what Freud did for Jung--sowed the seeds of success.
At the core of both books the message is love: love yourself and love those that love you. After all isn't that the crux of it all.
What I loved about both men, Morrie and Hugh, was their ability to don their PJs but keep living life to the fullest. I was always a fan of loungewear.
8:17am September 1, 2006
I had an epiphany. It will take the rest of my life to take shape.
I will take the GMAT early this October and apply to London Business School by their October 20th deadline--they will notify me of my acceptance by December 19, 2006. I will spend 2007-8 studying furiously, traveling with reckless abandon, making contacts cross-culturally with a paid summer internship in India. While traveling and working and learning, I will write a book capturing the experience--if no publisher expresses interest, I will have my grandfather print 100 copies in his press in Bombay which I will sign and distribute at will.
At 28, I will start my own business: MoxieMasala Inc.! We will specialize in delivering social miracles. I want to tell people I'm in the business of making dreams come true. Our company motto will be No Limits. Primarily staffed by the gay mafia we will focus our energy on image consulting, social/event planning, and the hiring of household staff. Our cards will be brightly colored and textured to reflect innovation and flexibility--the pivotal elements of success in such a service-oriented realm. I will guest lecture at universities across the United States and be an active mentor to college students who lack the drive or the dream but have the raw talent to amount to me.
It's the ultimate concierge service for high level corporate executives--thus garnering business from the Private Wealth sector of banks as well as the bankers themselves is critical to our survival (the contacts from b-school will be critical). Unlike firms that currently offer this service we will be global and versatile--most companies currently only specialize in one of these areanas--we will be a full-service firm.
In the interim, I will spend 2006-07 studying Italian--a quest I abandoned last Fall--as LBS requires fluency in a language other than English and I'm not sure Hindi counts. In lieu of actually completing my MA in Social Organizational Psychology, I will get a Certificate in Conflict Resolution from Columbia. I will fund my NYC life by getting the experience I need as a Recruiter at a Staffing Agency; it's always good to have back-up career option and executive sales and staffing is where it's at.
I will take the GMAT early this October and apply to London Business School by their October 20th deadline--they will notify me of my acceptance by December 19, 2006. I will spend 2007-8 studying furiously, traveling with reckless abandon, making contacts cross-culturally with a paid summer internship in India. While traveling and working and learning, I will write a book capturing the experience--if no publisher expresses interest, I will have my grandfather print 100 copies in his press in Bombay which I will sign and distribute at will.
At 28, I will start my own business: MoxieMasala Inc.! We will specialize in delivering social miracles. I want to tell people I'm in the business of making dreams come true. Our company motto will be No Limits. Primarily staffed by the gay mafia we will focus our energy on image consulting, social/event planning, and the hiring of household staff. Our cards will be brightly colored and textured to reflect innovation and flexibility--the pivotal elements of success in such a service-oriented realm. I will guest lecture at universities across the United States and be an active mentor to college students who lack the drive or the dream but have the raw talent to amount to me.
It's the ultimate concierge service for high level corporate executives--thus garnering business from the Private Wealth sector of banks as well as the bankers themselves is critical to our survival (the contacts from b-school will be critical). Unlike firms that currently offer this service we will be global and versatile--most companies currently only specialize in one of these areanas--we will be a full-service firm.
In the interim, I will spend 2006-07 studying Italian--a quest I abandoned last Fall--as LBS requires fluency in a language other than English and I'm not sure Hindi counts. In lieu of actually completing my MA in Social Organizational Psychology, I will get a Certificate in Conflict Resolution from Columbia. I will fund my NYC life by getting the experience I need as a Recruiter at a Staffing Agency; it's always good to have back-up career option and executive sales and staffing is where it's at.
DogSitting
I'm apartment sitting under the ruse of dogsitting for Gary at his adorable studio with sleep loft in Union Square. The location is unbeatable but when I ambled out at 11:44pm last night almost everything was closed--begging the question, why is it called the city that never sleeps if it's sleeping before midnight?
That's not the point of this post.
The point is that though I have a dog, I was very nervous about the responsibility of watching Cashew in Gary's absence. The notion that I may harm the dog or he may have an accident on my watch is unacceptable. Unlike Luckey, Cashew needs to be WALKED! This idea of routine freaks me out. Even for the five days I'm watching him, I'm on edge. How do people do it? Twice a day everyday at the same time without fail. This is why I never went on the pill--I couldn't trust myself to take one tiny pill everyday at the SAME time. My schedule is too erratic for that. I cannot be trusted!
On the off chance Gary is reading this...I'm doing a great job with Cashew. Fed him twice and walked him twice; unlike Luckey he is paragon of good behavior. Cashew is definitely an Omega dog....damn Luckey and his Alpha ways!
That's not the point of this post.
The point is that though I have a dog, I was very nervous about the responsibility of watching Cashew in Gary's absence. The notion that I may harm the dog or he may have an accident on my watch is unacceptable. Unlike Luckey, Cashew needs to be WALKED! This idea of routine freaks me out. Even for the five days I'm watching him, I'm on edge. How do people do it? Twice a day everyday at the same time without fail. This is why I never went on the pill--I couldn't trust myself to take one tiny pill everyday at the SAME time. My schedule is too erratic for that. I cannot be trusted!
On the off chance Gary is reading this...I'm doing a great job with Cashew. Fed him twice and walked him twice; unlike Luckey he is paragon of good behavior. Cashew is definitely an Omega dog....damn Luckey and his Alpha ways!
September
One of my favorite songs of all time is September by Earth, Wind, and Fire. Though old, I first heard the song at Shag while a beautiful gay boy danced his heart out on the bar--pelvic thrusts to rival Elvis, gyration to compete with belly dancers, and a smile...a smile to light a thousand candles.
Everytime I hear the song I smile. It takes me to a happy place--a place where I had a boyfriend who had a gay best friend who is a fabulous--and I'm fabulous by association at the very least. JW--I hope you dance!
Everytime I hear the song I smile. It takes me to a happy place--a place where I had a boyfriend who had a gay best friend who is a fabulous--and I'm fabulous by association at the very least. JW--I hope you dance!
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